Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty
by a-wild-clone-clubber
Summary: Is he saying what she thinks he's saying? The Devil's daughter likes her? Like, likes her likes her?


"Anything I want?"

"Yes," the man before her nods. "Anything you want."

At first glance, you wouldn't have any idea who he was. There are no horns, no red cape hanging from his broad shoulders, no intimidatingly large trident in his hands. In fact, he's probably one of the most impeccably dressed men Clarke's ever met, wearing a perfectly fitted black suit (Prada?) and matching leather shoes. He's rather, dare she say, devilishly handsome?

Clarke narrows her eyes. "What would I have to give in return? My soul?"

The man scoffs. "Please, I have enough of those as it is. We actually have a bit of an overcrowding problem down there."

"What then?"

"Well, you see, I have a daughter," he says, running a hand through perfectly coiffed hair. "She's rather lonely. There's not much of a social scene where we live, I'm afraid."

Okay, now she's just confused. Does he want Clarke to like, take this girl (if that's even what she is, given her obvious familial ties) out on a date or something?

"Yes, actually," he chuckles. "That's exactly what I want you to do."

Her eyes widen in surprise. Clarke isn't sure how to even respond to that (and not because he just read her mind or whatever). This is all very unexpected at 10am on a random Sunday morning. It's not like summoning the devil in her bedroom was part of her weekend plans. It was supposed to be just her, Ben & Jerry's, and Netflix.

"She's…grown quite fond of you. Although, I would highly appreciate your discretion. She has explicitly given me instructions not to tell you that."

Wait, what? Is he saying what she thinks he's saying? The Devil's daughter likes her? Like, likes her likes her?

More importantly, they've met before?! Clarke tries to remember every female face she's ever come across. There are a couple who definitely stand out…

"It's Octavia, isn't it? I knew there was something creepy about her."

"Octavia Blake?" His brow furrows in slight confusion. "No, she's of mortal origin."

"Is it Raven?" Clarke guesses. "Nobody's that smart."

The man shakes his head, amusement playing on his features. "Miss Griffin, I'm here to offer you a trade. Do you accept?"

On the one hand, she's not sure if she should be making a deal with the devil. She's seen enough movies to know that this never works out well.God Who knows what'll happen if something goes wrong. Eternal damnation is not, and never has been, on her agenda. Frankly, she doesn't think she'd fare very well in the fiery pits of hell.

But then again, the thought of having everything she's ever wanted is incredibly tempting. She could quit school and spend her days traveling the world, eating good food and focusing on her art. How bad could it be, really? It's just one date. She's been on tons of them before.

"Okay, I accept."

"Good." The man smiles charmingly. "Tonight. Be ready."

And just like that, he disappears into a puff of smoke that strangely smells like bacon.

* * *

What does one even wear to a date with the literal spawn of Satan, anyway? Can she wear white? Should she wear something dark instead?

After trying on different outfits for the better half of the afternoon, Clarke finally decides to just screw it and wear what she normally would. T-shirt, jeans, boots, leather jacket. It's comfortable, and she knows she looks good in it.

At precisely 6:13pm (what did she expect, really), there's a knock on her door.

When she opens it, she can't quite believe the face she sees.

"Lexa?!"

The other girl gives the sheepiest of sheepy grins, her fingers fiddling at the hem of her shirt. She doesn't look like someone who's spent her entire life (God who knows how long that might've been) in the perpetual burning Inferno. "Yeah."

Okay, yes, so she has hellish good looks and cheekbones that could probably cut someone if they aren't careful.

And yes, she does wear a frightening amount of black at school yet still manages to pull it off every single time.

And yes, her eyes are an unearthly shade of green that Clarke is now convinced can suck the soul of you if you stare into them for too long.

Perhaps she should've seen this coming after all.

An awkward silence falls over them, and it's Lexa who breaks it finally. "Listen, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. My dad's just kind of…" She trails off, gesturing with her hands, hoping Clarke gets it. (She does, because parental boundaries are something that apparently transcends the mortal realms)

It's surprisingly endearing, the nervousness evident in her tone. Out of all the qualities Clarke expected of her, that wasn't one of them.

(Is she actually thinking about how cute the spawn of Satan is looking right now? Surely that can't be right.)

"No, it's okay." She finds herself saying. Hell heck, she even thinks she means the words. "I want to."

Lexa's face lights up as she smiles, and oh, Clarke is just about ready to commit some sins right then and there.

It's cold outside, and a particularly chilly breeze makes Clarke shiver in her jacket.

"Do you want to go somewhere warmer?"

Clarke wants to nod, because that'd be ideal, considering the goosebumps breaking out across her skin right now, but she's not sure if Lexa means tropical paradise warm or…eternal flaming embers 'warm'.

Lexa seems to have read her mind, because she gives a light-hearted laugh. "Watch this," she says, snapping her fingers.

The first thing Clarke notices is the sand that magically appears in her shoes. They're on a beach somewhere, and aside from a few other people in her peripheral vision, the whole place is empty.

"Can you do that every time?" she asks, trying not to be impressed, but honestly, who is she kidding? Nobody's ever going to be able to top this.

Lexa shrugs. "There are a few places I can't go and a couple of things I'm not allowed to do, but that's it."

"Okay," Clarke admits she's getting excited now. There's so many places she's wanted to go to for as long as she can remember. "Do you know the aurora borealis?"

The brunette smirks, snapping her fingers once more.

They're on the deck of a ship this time, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Clarke can make out maybe some mountains and land in the distance, but all she can focus on is the stars above, littered in the night sky. It's breathtaking.

"Like it?"

"Yes," Clarke breathes out. "Beautiful."

"Definitely," Lexa agrees.

The blonde looks down to smile at her companion, only to find that green eyes were already trained on her, and she can't help the blush that creeps onto her face.

"You're nothing like I expected," Clarke confesses.

"That's a good thing, I hope." The twinkle in her eye rivals that of the brightest stars.

"Definitely."

They decide to spend the rest of the night (morning? She thinks she might've seen a glimpse of the sunrise out of the corner of her eye) there, talking about anything and everything.

Surprisingly, the more Clarke knows, the more she likes Lexa. Not the Devil's daughter Lexa, the one who will one day reign over the netherworld. Lexa Lexa. The one who likes listening to Taylor Swift on her iPod and eating pancakes and is weirdly obsessed with giant squids for some unknown reason.

By the end of it, Clarke thinks it might've been one of the best dates she's been on yet.

"So," Lexa begins when they're standing outside the blonde's front door. "Since my dad's away on business, I can grant your wish instead."

"Okay," she drawls out, already sure of what she's going to ask for.

"Tell me."

"You," she says with conviction, looking straight into green eyes. "I want you."

Lexa quirks an eyebrow, and it's only now that Clarke realizes how that sounded.

"I mean I want another date," Clarke blurts out, cringing at how…cringey that sounded. "With you," she finishes lamely.

The brunette smirks. "A deal's a deal."


End file.
